Dear My loveliest and closest friend,
These parties happened every weekend and I have no doubt they will continue to happen, only getting grander and grander as time goes on. What I saw was something no one could ever forget. The people who flooded the enormous house had houses just like it across the bay. Yet they still came. Their names were worth millions and trillions of dollars, but still they came to a party thrown by someone of new money and whom they had never meet. Before I had walked through those double doors I would have never understood why someone with offers to every party in the entire city of New York came to the one party where they didn’t even receive a proper invitation. But once the doorman tugged on the assumingly real gold door handles it was like entering another world.
Just pulling up to the house was an event itself. Every imaginable color a Rolls Royce could be was pulling up to the front doors and whipping around the fountain that was in the middle of the driveway. Car horns were beeping every 5 seconds as the drivers tried not to hit the party-goers that were rushing across the driveway to get inside. And as I was let off in my normal town car, thanking my driver whose name was unknown to me, I felt abnormally average, even though I was dressed in my finest clothes and jewelry.
The women and men dressed to the nines, looking like they had been taken straight out of pages of Vogue. All the girls were tall with legs two miles long and hair that was curled to perfection. The headpieces they wore had too many feathers to count and all were from exotic birds. They had dresses on with some of the shortest hemlines I have ever seen and fringe that swayed back and forth with little to no effort. And all of their shawls and coats had been made out of the richest and most luxurious furs from animal I’ve never heard of, let alone can pronounce. But what I was most envious about was the jewelry they possessed. Pearls, diamonds, rubies, and emeralds in all shapes and sizes were draped around their necks and down their arms and hands. They sparkled in the light and all the women wearing them radiated money and power. The men wore custom made Brooks Brothers suits, and tipped their felt fedoras and flashed their perfect white smiles at every girl that walked by. The party was in full swing for the rest of the night and a few hours into the next morning.
There were so many people! Some might say too many, but it added to the whole effect. There was barely room to move with all the people socializing and dancing. Everyone was so carefree and young, the atmosphere was astounding! The band, made up of trumpets, saxophones, drums, and so on, was blaring. There were streamers and sparkles everywhere, fireworks were set off throughout the night, and everyone was laughing and dancing on the huge black marble floor that surrounded the gold initials of the party-thrower. All anyone cared about was what type of champagne they were drinking and their love interest for the night.
Nobody left until the morning, all of the men and women scrambling around trying to find their valuable jewels and fur coats as quickly as possible so that they could return back to their own colossal houses. I too left in the morning, getting into my normal town car with my hair unbrushed and dress wrinkled. What was quite peculiar about the whole thing was that everyone was going to go to work the next day and move on with their everyday lives as if this whole party had never happened. As if all their happy and carefree feelings had never been felt. But then when the weekend would come again they will all return back to that same house, without an invitation and without knowing the party-thrower, and stay there being their carefree and happy selves all night while the saxophones play and the fireworks go off. I now have come to understand why everyone returns weekend after weekend. The huge, extravagant parties bring the feeling of youthfulness that we are all chasing after. I guess what we have to thank for these incredible and expensive parties is the booming stock market, but also the party-thrower himself, Mr. Jay Gatsby.
Yours Truly,

Megan Eisengart
P.S. Please respond as soon as you can, I am simple dying to hear from you.